Heath and Damon - A Tale of Two Adversities

Emile, 2009

Usual Caveats Apply

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Heath's Story

It was Sunday night at the Downtown, and the place was packed.  It feels like every gay guy in the city is here.  A latino guy muscled past me - arrogant model type with his beefy arms in the air, sloshing drinks on the rest of us.  I backed out of the way to avoid getting soaked, and ran into a table, and heard a bang and growl behind me as more drinks spilled.  I turned around to apologise, coming face to face with 'The A gays', as my friends called them, a trio of strikingly handsome men who were fixtures on the scene, a small constellation of stars around which half of the gay universe revolved.  I mumbled something and two of them scowled, but the third breezily waved his arm, giving me a broad handsome smile.  "No worries pal.  I'm Reece"  I gave a lopsided grin and he gestured to the bar.  "Hey why don't you grab me a new beer, and get yourself one to join us?"  I smiled and headed up to the bar, and even though it ruined my week's budget, I bought two beers and joined them.

That's how I joined Reece's gang.  I'm still amazed that Reece and I are together.  He and his two friends, Ted and Ry, are thirty something muscular rugged guys, kind of A-gays , and as they like to say, they don't date, they fuck.  They spend all their time together, and the atmosphere around them is a testosterone cloud of sports, beers and one-upmanship.  They're the straightest gay guys I've ever met, and they're like fuck magnets on the scene.  I've seen them with a lot of their fuckbuddies too, it seems whenever they go out, there's some white toothed clean cut preppie jock, or swarthy tank tradesman that comes up for a strong handshake and smalltalk, which basically boils down to wanting another round with one of the boys.  Reece tells me that sometimes the gang go for seconds, but they never seem to lack options for fresh meat, so they're breezy and arrogant with these stud gods.  More than once, to the hunky stud's horror, the fucker will rate the fuck in front of the group - good, fair or 'not worth it', and depending on the rating, alternatives and horniness of the other guy (since they all lived in a latent sexual heat), the guy might be offered a chance to be fucked by his mate.  While humiliated at getting passed around, the guy almost never said no.

So tucked into the A-gay table, I know I just don't measure up.  I've just turned twenty and had barely even been out on the scene.  I'm studying biology at college, away from home and struggling to make ends meet.  I first met Reece at Goodwill, embarrassingly, where he was doing some community service for a drunk driving charge (I later found out).  He helped me try on cheap jumpers for the coming winter, which meant he saw me in my tighty whiteys in the change rooms a couple of times handing me stuff.  Now I've got a naturally tight body from athletics at school and fast metabolism, but it's not big or muscular, just average.  So is my package, my looks.  I'm okay with that, I don't get many guys, but I manage to get my rocks off every now and then with similar dudes.  Reece on the other hand, was well out of my league.  So when he offered to grab coffee and skipped the afternoon's shift, I was kind of agog, and when we ended up at his place, passionately tongue tied and half naked, I was in bewildered seventh heaven.  It's been three weeks, and despite making out like schoolkids every night when we're back at his place (since I share a dorm), and without having had sex yet, we're "going steady", meaning he isn't fucking any other guy either.  It was our little secret, until tonight, when Reece used the co-incidence to bring me into his gang.

I thought we'd gotten away with the ruse, until Reece went up for the next round, and Ted and Ry leaned over the table, pecs in my face and eyes boring into me.  "So you're Reece's "boyfriend".  We've been wondering how long it would be.  You're special, know that - he's never had one before."  There was a glint in their eyes too, not hostility, or even mocking, like I'd expected, just a kind of faint amusement, like someone's kid cousin that needs entertaining for a while.  Maybe, this won't be so hard after all...

Damon's Story

Sunday at the Downtown is a zoo.  You can't fucking carry two beers though the bar without getting beer sloshed down your arms and fucking gropes on your arse.  I watched a clumsy kid run into a table as he got out of my way and then got to my friend's table, slamming down the glasses.  Beer was trickling through my armhairs, making my flesh crawl.  I hated the crowds, and since my friend was making small talk with a guy, I retreated to the games room out the back.  Usually it's empty on Sunday and I tool around with the billiard balls, but tonight there were three preppie guys in there, playing a game.  I was startled, and just stared in front of me - at the tight arse of one leaning over the table, realising it was Dean, who'd brought them 'Downtown' to meet me.  He made the shot and retracted his supple body, turning around with a smile.  I'd told him I came back here, and now he had an excuse to introduce me.  "Hey, aren't you Damon?" he asked me, po faced, before turning to his friends.  "See, you meet the best people here!  Hey Dean, why don't you join us - if you're not doing anything.."

So I don't get how I ended up with Dean.  He and his two friends, Ned and Ty, are twenty two, lanky privileged smart college kids, kind of A-list trust fund babies, and as they like to say, they don't date, they just fool around.  They spend all their time together, and the atmosphere around them is an intellectual storm of quantum physics, yachting and friends 'back east'.  Meeting them at last, they turned out to be the most superior arrogant guys I've met.  They usually don't go out on the scene, but get cruised all the time - money talks, they began telling me.  As they described it, their conquests were always some young bright sports major or bookish clean cut actor, that comes up to chink glasses and make a witty comment, eyes fixed on one of the trust fund baby's chiselled faces or generous, well tailored packages.  They always freeze them out, rating them after they've left, which inevitably results in one of the other guys taking him home at the end of the night, with nothing more than a command as he's leaving.  Humiliated at being treated like an object, the guys almost never say no.

I feel like such a dumbfuck around them.  I'm ten years older, grew up in South Central LA, and since my ma didn't want me joining our Chicano gang, I got out of trouble by training at the gym, until I had bigger 'guns' than any Crips or Bloods would mess with. Then I got my modeling gig and signed an exclusive contract to take me away from LA.  Still, just about half the city has seen my smooth olive body, down to my clippered pubes, in one magazine or another, and something about me makes people hate me - just like back in South Central.  So when I first met Dean at a cocktail party, embarrassingly, wearing just a bow tie and black swim trunks, serving food, I expected his dismissive look.  I've seen blogs where they call my arm tat "childish" or "stupid", or my body "oversized" or "dysmorphic", my face gaunt, my tackle small.  And I guess I can see what they mean when I look at myself, and that's without even opening my mouth. I'm okay with that, except my dick, but there are plenty of similar looking guys that want to fuck me when I'm horny, maul my body and kick me out after.   So when he came over and offered to grab a drink and skip the speeches, I was kind of surprised, and we ended up at his place, sitting around in casual clothes talking shit, I was completely blown.  After about three hours we fell asleep in front of the fire, with no more action than his arm under my jumper and across my chest as we spooned.  It's been like three weeks, and while almost every night starts the same at his place  (a palace compared to my pad), talking turns to tonguebaths and he sucks my tool, before asking me to fucking him hard on the rug.  I'd never fucked like that before, but Dean loves to buck and squirm under my curved prong.  He says we're "going steady", and so for the first time in my life, I'm not fucking around with anyone else either. That was our secret, until now.

Wearing my body hugging tee and jeans around these smart rich guys, I knew I was out of my league.  My underarms are damp with nervous sweat, and beads trickle down my spine as I compare my look with their preppie private school duds.  Dean had told me he wanted me to meet them, but I could tell they were more pleased to "meat" me when they cast their looks over me.  They ignored me at first, so I try to join the conversation. They stifle laughs, and I'm constantly making a fool of myself.  Dean just looks admiringly, and I wonder if the other guys have worked it out yet.  He might like me, but they see trash in their eyes.  I just don't get it.

Heath and Reece

We were going to be late meeting the boys.  The fact that we were still naked, Reece's broad pecs pressed against my body, his wicked dick still nestled between my thighs, made it even harder.  His tongue was down my throat and finger up my arse, making me squirm and buck with pleasure.    The tension was unbearable, but we still hadn't fucked, and he worked my tight hole in helpless anticipation.  It'd been three weeks since I'd joined the gang, six since we'd met, and I was stupidly in love with him, enough to be willing to wait, just a little longer, until he decided it was 'right' to take it further.  I worked my hands over his hard ribbed body, circling his hard hooded cock. "Yeah baby" he moaned, as I pushed the foreskin back with my lips and plunged down on his shaft.  His hands were on the back of my head now, guiding me closer to the root.  As he got closer, his breathing ragged and cock spurting precum, he pulled me off, gently twisting me around so his fat cock grazed my arsecheeks.  "Baby, I think it's time.  The boys can wait... this will be a late one anyway..."

Damon and Dean

It had all the urgency of a farewell fuck.  A desert photo shoot meant three days on the road.  It would be the longest time apart in six weeks.  We were both naked, my heavy chest against his as he rode my stiff dork like a bronco.  I'd been gentle at first, but Dean liked a rough fuck, and so I bounced him on my prong, slamming deep inside his gripping arse.  His own cock bucked and leaked with pleasure, and I jerked it with my hand, bringing him to the edge as my own cock pulsed with fucklust.  We'd fucked for hours like this, mounting the tension with tantalising need, and if we didn't fuck so often I think my balls would explode from the pent up jizz he aroused in me.  I worked my hand down the shaft, pulling back the foreskin so precum trickled down and onto my pistoning stick.  "The crew can wait ... just fuck me harder!  I need you deep inside me".  I slammed in hard, cockroot forcing itself against his sphincter, and started cumming with a roar.

Heath Wakes Up

It was like a bad dream.  Ryan lying next to me, naked and hard cocked, shaking me awake in the bed.Stark naked.  I'm humiliated.  We'd all been doing shots, and while the three of them seemed to be able to down the drinks like water, it went straight to my head.  We went on the dance floor, and they all pulled off their shirts, revealing their flawless rippled bodies as they danced and swayed.  Guys were all around us, and Reece made me strip to the waist as well.  The trio circled around me, Ted lifting my arms high while Ry grabbed me around the upper body, cupping my flat chest and whispering "We'll work up these puppies for you".    I couldn't see Reece, as the sandwiched me between them, and at some point Ted was leaning in, kissing me, pushing a pill in my mouth with his tongue.  I don't remember much else, except a rush, and now waking up naked on the sheets of Ryan's bed.  With him slapping me on the haunches as he got up and pulled on his skin tight jeans.  My arse felt on fire, and looking between my legs, I saw a large puddle of reddish leaking cum, like a horse had shot its load up my gut.  At that point, still propped on my elbows looking between my spread legs, Ted came in, fully dressed in his A&F gym gear, and a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Hey hey, party boy" he sneered, while Ry pulled on a sweatshirt, leaving me scrambling for my missing clothes.  "Thanks for doing us the favour.  Don't worry, your secret will be safe with us, provided you do us some little things.  Now get dressed, we're hitting the gym!"  He threw me a pair of tight grey workout shorts, without any concern for my greasy sweat streaked body or leaking well fucked hole.  I pulled the shorts on to hide my body, rage slowly building inside me.  "Come on fuckboy, don't want to be late for your boyfriend do you?"  My cheeks went red, and I was incensed, these cocky jocks had just raped me (and their best friend's boyfriend) and they were breezy and cool about it.  I sprang up, ready to yell, but the minute I moved, the searing pain from my battered arse turned my shouts into a cry of pain.  They thought it was a hoot, slapping me on the back and propelling me forward out of the rancid smelling flat. I turned to confront them, planting my feet down in what I hoped was a threatening pose, threatening to go to the police.  They stopped in their tracks, folding their arms across their broad chests and facing me.  Suddenly, from the glint in their eyes, I felt the balance shift firmly into their court.

"Whoa fuckface, careful there.  Reece is down there at the station already, he was caught drunk driving.  His dad is bailing him out now.  Imagine how much more trouble he'd be in if his 'boyfriend' shows up claiming he was raped as well - I mean you can't say for sure whose cum that is, can you.  Also, he was pretty pissed when he couldn't find you, that's why he went off, so imagine how he'd feel if we showed him photos of you getting felt up last night while he was in the lock-up.  Ted's cell has a great lens, there must be a dozen guys here.  Reece ain't the forgiving kind..."  I kind of slumped, defeated, tears rolling down my cheeks.  "So, what, you fucked me just to get rid of me?"  They both had shit eating grins on their faces.  "Well no, not exactly.  I mean, that was our initial plan, but we figured the worst would be Reece turning into a mopey shit over some weedy trashbag like you.  No, we want you around until Reece decides for himself to dump you.  In fact, from now you're gonna be our new best friend!"  The two stepped forward, grabbing me under an armpit each, virtually dragging me to the street and their waiting Hummer.

Damon Gets Ready

The photo shoot was in Long Valley, for some snug extreme sportswear.  Since I didn't have the package for modelling underwear and swimwear, most of my shoots were sports, which I liked since I was embarrassed about having my body on display.  My agent had started booking me better gigs now I was getting known - formal gear and even some arty shots for perfume - and I hoped that the semi-raunchy pictures on the net from my early career would fade away.  The cycle gear they'd given me for this shot was a bit uncomfortably tight around my thighs and tackle for my liking, but in the desert sun, with crotch padding and straddling the mountain bike, I figured I'd be okay.  The photographer was making me do push-ups in the fading sun to get my muscles pumped and a sweaty sheen, when the off-road truck rumbled into view.  The clouds of dust flew up into the shot, so I quit flexing and stood panting, hands on hips, as we waited to see who'd ruined the last few minutes of good light.

The car pulled to a screeching halt a foot away from me, sending a cloud of dust toward my sweaty body, sticking to it like mud.  I coughed as the cloud cleared, as Ned and Ty climbed out of the vehicle.  They were both dressed in polos and chinos, completely incongruous to the rugged terrain. The photographer began bailing them up, yelling to them about ruining the shot., but Ned just stuck his hand out and gave him a winning smile.  "Ned Beauchamp.  No hard feelings, but the shoot was cancelled.  No signal out here, we thought we'd come by personally to tell you."  The photographer quietened down a bit, and I wasn't sure if it was the name Beauchamp or the news that stopped him in his tracks.  But I was pretty pissed off still, their stunt meant no money for me, so barrelled up to them, muscles taut with anger.  "What the fuck?"  Tyler put out his hand as I approached, pressing his manicured fingers into my firm chest to keep me an arms length from them.

"Not so close jungle boy, you'll get that filth on us.  So Neddie here and I spent our allowance today on something fun - we bought 51% of your agency.  We're what you could call nearly-silent partners - we are butting out of all his clients bar one.  That's right Damon darling, we're not going to butt out of you.  Oh, and just to make things that little bit more uncomfortable, we've bought the building you're in too, and had a chat to your bank manager."  I folded my arms across my chest, puffing myself up as much as possible in front of the sneering toffs.  "Oooer, nice work jungle boy but your muscles won't change this.  We own you now.  You're in our hands."  I seethed, spitting out a few curses before asking what they wanted.  "Well, Damon dear, Neddie wanted to ruin you, but what's the point - I mean with Dean there to bail you out.  We toyed with the idea of getting you bashed or raped or something, but then Dean would probably go all mushy about it and keep you closer.  In fact, we couldn't figure out a way to get rid of you without making Dean a more pathetic loser because of it.  So we've decided that either we break you, or you break up.  Actually, not really, that just sounded good. We're just gonna break you down, until Dean comes to his senses and sees you for the fuckjob you are.  My eyes narrowed.  "What makes you think I won't tell Dean about this?"  They both grinned broadly.  "You really don't know our darling Dean at all, do you.  He really just despises conspiracy theories, probably figure it's your fucked up way of dumping him.  The more you say, the less he'll believe.  Now get in the car dumbfuck, we've got some driving to do!"

Heath Gets A Lift

They hustled me in the front, taking up a seat each and making me straddle the stick in between.  Ted took off with a roar, Ry's beefy arm restraining me from flying into the window and pushing me uncomfortably close to Ted.  Ry turned towards me, his hot breath on my cheek.

"So, we don't like your body.  Reece thinks it's cute your whole poor I-cant-eat thing makes you lean and tight.  You wanna beef up don't you boy?  Yeah?  Well this will be a fucking dream come true.  From now on we're gonna be training you - our little secret - and I've got some of the best proteins money can buy.  Don't worry, we won't be giving you roids or shit, and don't think we'll be feeding you any - if he likes poor and hungry, then that's what you stay.  He leaned over my shoulder, armpit in my face as he rummaged around in the back for something.  He twisted back into his seat, slapping a bodybuilding magazine onto my lap, open at a competition page.  The guys on the page looked freaky, getting increasingly extreme until the nearest guy had veins popping out of his body, his muscles like beads on a string.  "So here's a quick lesson for you - the guys on the left, they're kind of like our regular fucks - solid hard muscle, or a "full house" - buff and solid, 15-20% body fat.  These guys in the middle, they're like us - well defined, cut muscles and 10 - 15% body fat, abs popping.  The guys on the right, their body fat is real low.  The ripped guys, they are competitors, still hot, but almost like a human machine.  Now this guy, he's "shredded" - see how it looks a bit freaky when the muscles flex.  He had to watch his diet to stay like that - it's like constantly being hungry - and only about 5% body fat means he can get weak pretty easily if he goes to long without chow.  This guy on the end - he's sliced.  Body fat is like 3% or something, and almost no water - if he stays like that he'll fucking pass out.  Professional guys only do it for comps, it's like seriously bad for you.  Like that he looks completely abnormal - even your cheek muscles show.  Fucking sick."

I was really uncomfortable now, and I could see where they were going.  "You can't make me work out, you can't make me stop eating.  This is fucked.  Let me out, I don't care what you tell Reece"  I tried to struggle over Ryan, although with the car speeding, I knew it was more for show.  Ryan slammed me back and Ted jammed the gearstick back, slamming me in the balls and bringing the car to a halt.  Ryan grabbed my nutsack and squeezed until I could barely breathe, his barrel chest pushed against mine.  "Listen up douchebag.  We've done our homework on you.  You think we don't have friends at your precious college, or your dorm, or that shithole you call a job?  Half of this city is gay, and we've fucked most of them. So either you play along until Reece gets over you and then you can have your life back, or you can fuck this up and we'll fuckin ruin you!"  I squirmed under the squirrel grip, the pain slowly giving way to horror.  I knew he was right - I'd seen the looks I'd been getting from every cute guy on campus from my dorm supervisor to my hunky lecturer, since I'd started seeing Reece. Piercing, unfriendly looks.  I thought it was just paranoia, until now. Ryan released the grip and they both climbed out of the car, leaving me gasping for air with cold air drafting through the open doors.  "Come on fuckface, your training starts now."  Sickeningly, I realised we were at the city's main gay gym, and Ryan was getting a vial out of his bag...

Damon Hitches A Ride

Damon reluctantly grabbed his kit bag and headed for the car.  The crew were packing up nearby, keeping to themselves.  Whatever they had heard, they were keeping quiet.  With a sick pit in his stomach, Damon realised that whatever they did, no-one would take on these young tycoons unless Dean himself believed him.  And for now he'd just have to bide his time until he came up with a plan.  When he climbed in the rover, he discovered he wasn't alone - while Ned and Ty took their place in the front, he squeezed in next to a boyish blonde in preppie clothes in the back.  "Oh yeah, met Ivan our helper" Ned mentioned, as he revved the engine.  "Don't let that boyish face fool you, he's ex Russian secret service.  He's here to make you co-operate."

As they sped through the desert, Tyler began to talk.  "So, we don't like your attitude.  So you've got a kick arse body and a nice smile - who the fuck cares.  Dean thinks you're some kind of innocent - a hard-done-by project to save.  He thinks, unlike the other jaded queens - that you're some kind of milk fed boy inside a hard exterior.  We're gonna show him different - see you for the muscle slut you are.  First, Ivan here is gonna move in with you.  Dean's never met Ivan, so don't think that will help you any.  Ivan is a really handy flatmate - not only does he have powerful methods of persuasion, but he's a bit of a life coach too.  You see, from now on, Ivan will decide what you wear, when you eat, even who your guests are.  He'll make sure you go hard at the gym and take all your supplements.  In fact, except for your and Dean's plans, but the rest of the time is his.  Ivan has lots of friends - drug dealers, pimps, guys he owes favours.  You'll be a busy boy."  Ivan smiled innocently, and shrugged, looking harmless.  But as if to make his point, his hand shot out, grabbing my nipple and yanking it upwards, forcing me out of my seat trying to minimise the pain.  His other hand ripped the cycle shorts down to my knees and then he plunged a finger into my dry and unprepared arseknot, slamming into the prostate with expert aim.  He let go of my titflesh, and I dropped to the seat in agony - the whole operation taking less than two seconds.  The burning in my arse continued, and my cock began to rise - something was still jammed up against my prostate gland.  In broken English, Ivan mumbled "A little something to warm your hole for the ride".  "Almost forgot" Ned said, interrupting, "we've told Ivan to keep you nice and horny all the time.  You can't cum of course, so this will make you seem a real sex pig when you're with Dean.  In fact, given the amount of buttfucking you'll be enduring, it won't be your only problem.  I wonder how long you'll be able to hide it..."  I couldn't believe it, did they really think they could do this?  I tried to talk but my mouth had become slack, my head was woozy.  Ivan parted my thick thighs as my body temperature began rising.  "Before you go, we've found a better extreme sport shoot for you" Tyler said, handing me some papers.  They were DVD covers of gay porn, with names like "Hard Leather" and "Man Tool".  I couldn't speak, and could barely fight off Ivan has he began draping my arms over the seat back, making me fully exposed.  I was helpless.  Tyler continued - "Yeah,they're samples for your next modelling gig.  In fact, we're on the way now".

Heath Weighs In

Tonight is our three month anniversary.  Reece is taking me to dinner, and Ted and Ry say I need to look my best.  That's why they're weighing me at the gym.  I can't believe it's been 6 weeks since they began fucking with my life.  It was too easy for them, unfortunately.  First, I'm helplessly in love with Reece, and they know it, so even though they are ruining me, I can't begin to think of how to escape.  Secondly, Reece has to serve 8 hours community service every day, as probation for the latest offense.  Eight hours I should be in college, or eating, or whatever the fuck, that instead I have to spend with them.   And since they're my latest "best friends", it doesn't end there, it's just the worst 8 hours of their constant attention.  The machine is testing my body fat - I am officially Shredded.  Reece has noticed I am growing, and the guys told him we're training at the gym, but my body is getting abnormally cut and veiny, despite the muscle growth.  It is fucking scary.  Reece asks me if I am eating properly, and I have to lie.  I'm fucking starving, but Ted and Ry keep me like that, constantly - unless you include my diet of HGH, protein, and their cum.

They fuck me daily.  They want to get my hole as sloppy and wide as possible - forcing me to do arse exercises to try and keep it in shape.  At first they just fucked me with their dicks - brutally - punching my gut until I limped and my arsepucker was red and painful to touch - but Reece figured it was his fault, so they've upped the ante.  Now they've started using dildos to widen my "worthless cunt" instead - told me they're training me, an inch a day, until I can take a 12 x 3 inch buttreamer balls deep.  I have to bite my lip when I shit, or Reece enters me, however gently, the pain is so extreme, and I wonder if they're doing permanent damage.  Reece has asked if we should stop again, since I'm clearly in such pain, and he knows his thick pussyrammer is doing damage.  But like they've told me, I can't say no to a man in need.  Of course fucking him is out of the question - they convinced him I was strictly a bottom - and in any case there is a wax stick permanently jammed down my pisshole.  The soft wax gives Reece the impression I'm leaking when he beats my stalk hard during sex - in fact it's just the friction melting the stalk inside my dicktube - and of course if I do cum, it gets painfully stuck behind the waxy tube, dripping out afterwards in painful waxy clogged drops.  Reece has noticed how I don't shoot much anymore, but has yet to ask, just giving me a hurt look whenever after sex I look more exhausted than ecstatic.  Really, I'm in terrible pain.

Damon's Exclusive

The DVD cover looks filthy.  Not only is my cock permanently achingly hard, courtesy of the six weeks since I last shot, but my shaved body looks unnaturally large and animalistic.  The pictures show me rutting like an animal with twenty guys, all shot in cheap, nasty warehouses around town.  All these shoots have given me an excuse not to see Dean much, although when we do, he's confused I don't want to go all the way - just sucking him off while my own throbbing dork goes unattended.  He has yet to discover the awful power Ivan now has over my life.

My days are now filled with sex.  Early in the morning I'm awoken by a guy climbing into my bed - some stranger Ivan had let in the flat.  These guys are all types - drugfucked users, chubby bears, chicks with dicks - the sicker, the better as far as he cares.  One thing they all have in common - they are hung!  I'm always woken by a long thick dork pushing its way up my distended mancunt.  And as humiliating as it is for me to give up my muscular arse for any joe's hard fucking, it's that stretching that's the worst. Not only are they opening my hole like a flower, but the fuckers take my whole body like it's a fair ride - yanking my nips and mauling my nads like a pony, until every sensitive part of my body is stretched and sore.  It's hard to hide from Dean, especially since my body is on display in magazines weekly, talked about on blogs, I swear every gay guy seems to have seen (and now had) a piece of me.  It doesn't help that there are webcams in my flat, all pointed at the bed, and if I want to avoid a ball banging session later, I know to spread my thighs wide and brace my feet, so the stranger can get a nice strong fuck rhythm going, and my throbbing meaty dork and pumped body are clearly visible in shot.  And pumped is the only way I can describe it, like he wants my body to be freakishly large.  Gym straight after the morning fuck - two hours, without showering - fucked again in the post-workout showers - and then I start the morning properly with the first shoot.  It seems like the more admiration and respect I get from Dean in the evening, the more filthily abused I get during the day.  So far, he doesn't notice, but for how long?  My body is wrecked, my arsehole a highway, and when I see him, I feel more fuckhole than future partner.  I'm on the brink!